


Brother (Even If He Tries to Pretend)

by chasingyellow



Series: Alone (Together) [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Brother and sister friendships are the cutest, But he's working on it, CASS IS THE BEST, Cass deserves all the respect, Cass helps out, Cass is sweet, End of story, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has Mental Health Issues, Jason Todd has abandonment issues, Jason has FeelsTM, Jason sick, Mentions of past child abuse, Siblings, Sickfic, a little fluff, because she's the best, jason is sick, references to Jason's past, she's the sweetest, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingyellow/pseuds/chasingyellow
Summary: He didn't even know how she got into the apartment.One second, he was alone in his apartment, puking up his guts.And the next, she was standing in the doorway, staring at him.ORJason is sick and things only go downhill from there (sort of).Also, he's very possessive of his kitchen.
Series: Alone (Together) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083293
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	Brother (Even If He Tries to Pretend)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back y'all! Hope you all had an amazing New Year and are ready to love yourselves and live your best life!   
> I hope you enjoy the fic. It's my first time writing Cass, so hopefully, I did her some justice. I just love the dynamic of her and the rest of the Batfam and I think she's amazing.   
> TW: brief mention of child abuse, and references to Jason's past, vomiting.

He didn’t even know she got into the apartment. 

He didn’t even know how she’d found it, knew it was his. 

He didn’t even know how she’d gotten in without him spotting her. 

One second, he was alone in his bathroom, puking up his guts—because there wasn't any food  _ in  _ his guts—

And the next, she was standing there at the door, staring back at him. 

He’d met her once before, but that didn’t do anything for him. Cassandra Cain’s eyes were still unsettling. 

Jason took one look and turned his head back to the toilet bowl. Maybe she was a fever-induced hallucination— _ did he have a fever? He couldn’t remember _ . Maybe she would go away if he just ignored her. 

No such luck. 

“Brother,” 

Jason groaned into the bowl, tasting bile and praying to whoever was listening that she would just  _ go away.  _

“Not feeling good,” 

_ Yeah, no _ —

His stomach heaved again and his head dipped a little lower as he hacked up bile and maybe part of his stomach lining. 

He waited there for a second, trying to remember how to breathe. 

He felt a hand on his back. 

Jason tried to disguise the flinch as a shiver, but he wasn’t sure how well it worked. He wasn’t sure about much, at the moment, now that he thought about it. 

“Sick?” Cass’ voice was soft, close to his ear. He shivered a little, as her other hand moved to his forehead, pushing back sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead. 

He thought about not answering, but he thought that would probably be a jerk move. After all, her hand on his head was probably the only thing keeping him from drifting off and then  _ passing out  _ and then drowning in his own toilet bowl. 

_ Nice thought. Cause of death: drowning in vomit.  _

It wasn’t as though he was trying to one-up his last death. Being beaten to death and  _ then  _ exploded was pretty close to the top of the list in the most intense ways to die. In his books, at least. He might be biased.

Drowning in vomit, on the other hand, was  _ not  _ on his bucket list. 

But since Cass was here, he wasn’t likely to do so. He couldn’t blackout at the moment, because he was too busy being stiff and on guard. 

“Brother?” 

“I’m not your brother,” Jason ground out, pushing himself up and little and finally managing to sit back on his heels. His head swam, but he thought that was probably the dehydration. He’d fix that...in a bit. He just couldn’t think about eating or drinking anything at the moment. 

“Sick?” 

Jason shook his head a little and twisted around to look at her. 

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t step back like he’d gotten used to people doing around him. Her gaze bored into him, making him a little more uncomfortable. 

That was, of course, until she smiled at him. 

He didn’t really know how to feel after that and he stared at her, this time because he was completely lost. 

“Sick,” Cass repeated, this time sounding like she’d figured everything out. She brushed his hair out of his eyes again and Jason didn’t flinch as much this time. He watched her and she ran her fingers through his hair again, watching them with a fascination that he didn’t think he could explain. Her gaze flicked down to meet his eyes an eternity later and her smile softened. “Brother,” 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, trying not to be annoyed. 

He’d been doing better lately. 

Sort of. 

He’d only had two nightmares this week. To be fair though, he’d only slept twice this week and it was only Thursday, but he thought that counted as progress. He was finding coping methods, right? 

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that was a crappy idea. He didn’t think he’d had an idea that  _ wasn’t  _ crappy in quite some time so he wasn’t really sure how to help with that, though. 

The only actual progress he’d made in the last two weeks was that he hadn’t killed any of the Bats. He hadn’t seen green in a few days either and he wasn’t about to ruin all of that progress now. 

_ Breathe, Jason.  _

He did: taking in a little stuttering breath that made his stomach feel uncomfortable again. But it cleared his head a little.

_ You’re in control. Easy as that. Even now.  _

“Here to help you feel better,” Cass answered simply, withdrawing her hand and turning on her heel. “Follow,” 

Jason didn’t follow. 

He sat there, breathing and trying to rack his brain. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to throw up again. He didn’t want to follow, but he also wasn’t stupid. He knew that he wasn’t doing well. He  _ was  _ sick. Probably. Even though he couldn’t exactly remember when he’d stopped feeling bad and started feeling downright  _ crappy.  _

He wasn’t sure how long he waited there, knees aching. He nearly threw up again, but his stomach ended up not being able to bring up even any bile. 

Cass peeked back through the doorway. She pressed her lips together, then came back into the bathroom, and Jason got distracted by the swaying of her hair against her shoulders. 

_ He was so tired.  _

A tap on his shoulder had him jolting back to awareness, heart beating in his throat. His gaze snapped to the side, but it was just Cassandra. 

_ When did it become  _ just _ Cass? Shouldn’t he be telling her to leave, telling her to go away?  _

She tapped on his shoulder again and then crouched down beside him. She hesitated, meeting his eyes again and making sure he was watching her as she picked up his arm and slung it over her shoulder. 

Cass helped him stand— _ he didn’t really need it, but he  _ was  _ tired.  _

“Thanks,” he mumbled when they reached his living room because  _ he wasn’t a total jerk.  _

Cass didn’t say anything to that, just released his arm and let him settle on the couch. She stepped away, glancing over towards—

_ Was she looking at the door?  _

Jason slumped back on the couch, trying to convince himself to stay upright for just a few more minutes. Just until she left. He lost the fight to keep his head, though, and it fell back against the cushions, eyelids threatening to drop as well. 

“You...You don’t have to stay, Cass,” Jason said and the words felt thick in his mouth. “It’s okay,” 

Cass froze, cocked her head at him. 

“I’m fine, Cass.” He gestured sloppily, forced his eyes open again. “The front door’s that way. You probably—probably know that already,” His brain was lagging. His blurring vision was making his headache, his stomach turn. He was going to be sick again. 

Cass took a step, hesitated. 

_ Why wasn’t she just leaving?  _

She looked at the door again. 

“You don’t have to stay, Cass. It’s okay,” He repeated, waving a hand at her again. He tried to lift his head. He didn’t know if he’d felt this horribly exhausted in his life. 

She looked at him again, offered that little smile that made him feel strangely hollow inside. Then she turned on her heel. 

And left. 

It struck Jason, somehow.

He’d wanted her to leave. He’d convinced her, said it was okay. 

But there was something...He felt a strange pang as he gave in and let his head drop back against the couch. The ceiling swirled above him. He let his eyes shut. 

  
  


“Jason? Jason?” 

He was tired. That was the first thing that he was aware of. 

He was tired and there was someone poking his cheek, trying to get him to wake up. 

Which he, personally, was very decidedly  _ against.  _

He groaned slightly, dragging an arm over his stomach. It was achy—no, his whole body was achy. And he was freezing. He was—

He was sick. 

He could remember that much. 

Jason groaned again, finally managing to get his eyes open on the second try. A face wavered in his vision. 

He stared at it stupidly, dizzily for a few seconds before he realized that it was  _ a face.  _

_ Then  _ he full-body flinched, slamming back against the back of the couch and blinking rapidly. His hand snapped out to the side, fingers searching for a gun, for  _ something. _

Nothing. 

Jason swore under his breath, his chest seizing up, breath choking up—

“Brother,” 

Cass? 

“ _ Cass? _ ” He croaked out, his throat feeling raw. 

Jason slumped a little, letting him relax for half a moment, before pushing himself upright. Cass backed up a step and watches him as he rubs a hand over his face. 

He’d fallen asleep, he realized, and he’d gotten half of a numb face for his efforts. He could feel the indents from the couch in his cheek. He still felt terrible—cold all over, achy and his stomach wasn’t exactly happy either. 

Jason tried to keep from swearing. 

“Food,” Cass said, after staring at him for another minute and a half. 

Jason swore. 

He wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by the fact that someone had been cooking in his kitchen, or that he was now being offered their food after spending all morning puking. 

Cass watched him and he stared back at her. His stomach turned uncomfortably. 

He blinked and she glanced towards the door—er, no. 

The kitchen. She’d been trying to let him know the entire time. Which meant that she hadn’t wanted to leave. 

Jason felt a strange, vulnerable feeling settle in his chest that he wasn’t sure had anything to do with the illness. He rubbed a hand over his face again, trying to banish the shame that flared up along with it. 

She was trying to help him. 

He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that, didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was sick, but that didn’t mean she had to help him. 

Why would she? 

He was a murderer. 

He didn’t need—

It hit him so hard and fast he nearly choked on it. The memory. 

He was young. Newly Robin. Newly taken in by Bruce. 

He’d been living with Bruce for a few weeks—a few perfect, blissful weeks—before they found the food he’d stashed underneath his bed. 

He’d been mortified. He’d been able to feel the blood drain out of his face as he prepared for the blow. The blow or whatever Bruce had prepared. That’s what Willis had done when he’d found the food Jason had saved.  _ Selfish,  _ Willis had told him,  _ You need to learn a lesson.  _

And maybe it  _ had  _ been selfish. Maybe he’d been selfish. But he was also hungry and he never knew what Willis was going to do. What Catherine was going to do. 

Some days he came home and there just wasn’t...anything. Wasn’t any food. Wasn’t any money. 

So, maybe he’d been selfish. Because he needed lunch for school or else people would ask questions and Catherine had always been entirely too thin to be really healthy. 

But he was living with Bruce—with  _ Batman _ —and doing that, being selfish didn’t make any sense. And he didn’t know why he’d done it. He’d just  _ done it  _ and—

Bruce hadn’t even been mad. 

He’d gotten this strange, faraway look in his eyes and he’d rested his hands on Jason’s shoulders and pulled him up against his chest and said  _ it’s okay, it’s alright.  _ Said  _ you don’t have to worry, okay?  _

He didn’t have any reason to do it. Bruce didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to help him. He didn’t have to  _ not  _ be mad. He didn’t have to tell him it was okay. 

He did it anyway. 

Jason had tried to forget about the moment, forget about the shame of it. And then Alfred had knocked on his door, and invited him to the kitchen. 

To help him cook. 

Alfred didn’t have to do it. But he did it anyway. 

Because he cared. 

“Jason?” Cass’ voice jerked him back to the present, eyes and heart stinging like a freshly opened wound. Jason blinked quickly, ran a hand over his face. “Not hungry?” 

His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he swallowed roughly. “No—no, sorry, that would be cool,” 

_ Oh my _ —

He grimaced. At how he stumbled over the words. At how he fumbled to get them out over the lump in his throat. At how  _ incredibly stupid  _ he sounded. 

But Cass smiled and straightened and disappeared back into the kitchen. 

Jason relaxed, took a shuddered breath, tried to bury the shame, the fear. From the kitchen, he could hear Cass taking out a pan. The clack of her setting on the stove. 

She didn’t have to. But she did. 

And even if she was pretending, even if she was lying—he could pretend too. 

“Cass?” He called out and she peeked back into the living room, eyebrows raised. Jason mustered up some courage, swallowed, and held onto an old memory. “Thanks,” 

Cass smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!   
> Drink lots of water. Love you all!   
> -a


End file.
